I will tell you the mystery
by Rouch
Summary: Winter fic exchange. Elizabeth goes missing, but when no one takes credit for the kidnapping Henry must take matters into his own hands.
1. Here is a call for endurance

A/N: This is my fanfiction exchange. My prompt: kidnapping fic. I had hoped to have it completed today, but it needs another few days. Hang with me, I promise to wrap this up within the week. The rating may change.

Many thanks to thepuppiesinpink for organizing us.

 **I will tell you the mystery**

Smoke billowed out from the door of the compound. It was situations like this where Henry McCord hoped he was wrong. From the command center, he watched the FBI body cameras, holding his breath and hoping not to see any signs of mass suicide. As they cleared each room of the cult's compound, no bodies were found. Finally, they made it to the central room, the sanctuary. Just one day before, Henry had stood in the empty hall, face to face with a charismatic, middle aged man convinced of his beliefs. They had proof that the end times were already in motion. This belief had led the small group to stock pile more than 100 illegal firearms and explosive compounds. Once the FBI's investigation determined they were dealing with a radical, religious cult and not a terrorist cell, they called in their go-to religious expert.

Three days ago, Henry had stepped foot in the small, mobile command center and had initiated contact with the leader, Reverend Douglas Morning Star. Of course, Rev. Morning Star was not his legal name, but the team had to play into the fantasy that had been constructed by Douglas Peters. Throughout the conversations, Henry hadn't really determined if the man was delusional, a skilled fraud, or genuinely misguided in his interpretations of Daniel and Revelation. In the end, he guessed it didn't really matter. In stand-off situations, the best anyone could hope for was a low body count. When Morning Star stopped communicating there was very little choice but to go in and hope the building wasn't rigged to explode, taking every church member and FBI agent to eternity.

The smoke, for the time being, was a result of smoke grenades. With the explosives on site, flash-bangs were unsafe, but the agents needed cover in case the members of the First Church of the End Times had armed themselves against the agents of the Antichrist.

~~/~~

Elizabeth McCord checked her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. She had to stop thinking about Henry. She knew he could take care of himself, and her current situation was anything but as stable. She stood behind President Dalton, who was sitting in front of the press corps, flanked by the government leaders from Colombia, Peru, Guatemala, Bolivia, Brazil, and Mexico. She had negotiated an unprecedented agreement to enforce strict laws aimed at decreasing drug related violence across Central and South America. The key to the agreement was that it targeted violence toward innocent communities unfortunate enough to be stops along the drug trade and not targeted on the drug cartels themselves. Despite this distinction, intelligence reports had surfaced suggesting the major cartels were already mobilizing to test the legitimacy of the agreement. Their operations had to adjust to new boundaries and develop new tactics. This was inevitable. No one was foolish enough to think they could end the drug trade as long as there was demand and the demand was profitable, but if they could be rerouted around vulnerable villages and through unpopulated territory, it was a win.

As the document was passed and signed by each representative, camera flashed from the media corps. Glancing down for a moment, Elizabeth, not for the first time that day, regretted Alison had convinced her the purple blouse was perfect with the red blazer. In the soft light of bedroom closet, she had to admit, it was unconventional and worked. Now, in the scrutiny of history, she wondered if the camera would be kind. Of course, she was not the focus of the photos, standing behind the seven men who would be the focal point, she was joined by ten other aids. She knew these numbers of course because of the hours wasted negotiating the positions of each person for purposes of the photo op. Out of the corner of her eye she couldn't help but notice a peculiar stare from one of her new agents on her security detail, Barry. Apparently he was a fashion critic. Another of her detail entered from the side and whispered in Barry's ear. They both looked her way, she decided it wasn't about complimentary color combinations. As the final camera shutters fell silent and President Dalton stood, she made her way to the pair.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Matt cleared his throat, "We need to brief you on some changes to your detail, there's a credible threat."

~~/~~

People shouted, some cried. Henry walked through the makeshift holding area where members of the cult were placed after a thorough search and assessment of their mental state. No one had died. Yet. Pastor Morning Star was barricaded in the armory, but the rest of the congregation had been removed. The standoff was nearing a stalemate, and Henry needed insight. He was in search of the Pastor's 18-year-old son.

"Justin? Justin Peters?" he finally called out. When a dark-haired boy stood. His skin was dark, evidence of his many hours working outside on the church's farm. His broad shoulders attested to his diligence to the manual labor required to maintain a self-sustaining community. "I'm Henry McCord. Can you come with me? I want to help your father," Henry said.

The boy nodded his head and obediently followed. Once they reached the conference area of the mobile command center, Henry offered him water.

"Coffee?" was the one-word answer that was almost a whisper.

Henry nodded, it had been a long three days for everyone, "Of course, have a seat." Pouring the coffee and grabbing a handful of cream and sugar, he watched his companion scan the room. Justin's eyes moved over the sparse room in a slow methodical manner. At times they would linger on an unfamiliar object or the news program muted on the television set. Setting the paper cup in front of him, his eyes snapped to the steam rolling off the surface.

"Thank you," Justin simply said, ignoring the cream and sugar and blowing the surface of the coffee. "How can I help you? How can I help my dad?"

It was a good sign. The boy wasn't afraid to take the initiative and his use of the word 'dad' suggested some emotional connection. "He's locked himself in the armory. We want to help him out without anyone getting injured. He isn't very talkative."

"How can he be? That door is six inches thick."

Henry smiled despite the situation. If logic could reign, there was some hope. "He has a cell phone, he's answered it twice, but doesn't say much. He's asked about you, about the other members of your church, he cares about all of you."

Justin's brow knit together. "Of course he cares. He's our pastor."

"Why is he in there?" Henry asked.

Taking a sip of coffee, Justin closed his eyes and quoted, "Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints."

Knowing the church was obsessed with end times prophecy, Henry had spent the past several days reading passages from Daniel and Revelation. He thought he knew the passage, and it concerned him. "if you kill with the sword, with the sword you must be killed."

Surprise couldn't be hidden when the younger man opened his eyes.

"He's waiting for the agents to break in so he can render his own judgment," it wasn't a question, and was understanding.

"It is God's judgment. It's a test of righteousness," Justin said simply. "It was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer them."

Standing, Henry sighed. He glanced at the TV and saw Elizabeth at her press conference. "You think we're the beast?" he asked and turning to see Justin was also staring at the television. "Justin?"

Shaking his head, he looked at Henry and back at the TV. "Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?" He cleared his throat and squinted to read the caption. "Who is that?" he asked as the camera focused on President Dalton and the Secretary of State.

Henry looked back and was confused. The church wasn't cut off from the world. They had radio and newspapers delivered, but maybe these were only allocated to the church leadership. "That's President Conrad Dalton."

"No, the woman, in the purple and scarlet," he clarified causing Henry to feel defensive.

Walking to the wall, Henry turned off the set and took a small breath, hoping to steady himself. "That's the Secretary of State. They were signing a multi-national agreement." Turning to face Peters, Henry needed to change the subject subtly but quickly. "How do I help your dad?"

"Let me talk to him," he offered with some unnamed determination Henry couldn't place, but was willing to accept if it ended the standoff peacefully.

~~/~~

Elizabeth settled into her chair in her home office, the days events replaying in her mind, waiting impatiently for her husband to walk safely through the doors. No one would ever accuse them of living normal lives. She was reading the declassified report regarding from the FBI operation with the First Church of the End Times. The leaders were in custody and would face charges once all the seized weapon were logged and the data was searched, charges would be assessed. They would be minor, but hopefully the prison time would be long enough for the most vulnerable church members to embrace their freedom and not return to the confines of the closed community.

When she heard the door, she waited for Henry to round the corner. When he didn't come to her, the baseline worry intensified. She stood and headed for the door. She found him leaning against the wall looking out the window. "Hey," she called out and took his hand. Looking out the window, trying to see what he was seeing. "What's wrong?"

He turned and wrapped her into a side hug, "I was about to ask you." Nodding to the new security configuration. "What happened?"

Elizabeth squeezed his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen. "I'll fill you in after you tell me what's not in this FBI report." She busied herself with leftovers, giving him time to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not really sure what happened," he admitted. "We tried to negotiate for two days with Peters. He knew just what to say to prolong the standoff but never escalate it. It was like he wanted us to react. Yesterday, he didn't answer our calls and the team had to enter the compound. They were expecting the worst, but all the church members were in the sanctuary praying. They went with the agents peacefully. Each one submitting to searches to make sure there were no hidden weapons," he paused accepting a glass of wine. "They had dorms that had been searched the day before and we moved 30 of the women and children there. Then men were questioned while the agents finally realized Pastor Morning Star had barricaded himself in their armory." Henry took the offered plate of food and moved with his wife to the table to continue his story.

"I read about the armory. How does a small group build a vault? Why does a church need assault riffles and grenades?" Elizabeth asked.

"We're still not sure how the vault was constructed. The door was six inches thick. It had to have been specially made. The FBI will track it down. The weapons, apparently were needed for the church to survive the end times and defend themselves against the beast," he explained. "That, I finally figured out when I sat down with his son. They thought we were sent by the beast. Peters wanted the agents to attack so he could be vindicated maybe. Possibly martyred." He paused, still not sure how the situation resolved itself. "Justin volunteered to talk to his dad. Five minutes and six words later, the pastor surrendered peacefully and we were filing after action reports."

She looked expectedly, but realized he was going to make her ask. "Ok, the suspense is killing me. What were the six words?"

"Come out, the mystery is over," he said and shrugged. "We questioned them both for hours and neither one has explained what mystery he was referring to. The FBI don't seem to care what some religious fanatics believe as long as they don't have access to weapons," he said sarcastically, adding, "Apparently."

She processed his words, knowing they did little to describe his three days immersing himself in the theology of the cult. "What happens to the people?"

"Hopefully, they go back to their families, but we can't stop them if they want to return to the compound," he admitted. "The rest will face charges of possession of illegal firearms and explosives. Pastor Morning Star may spend 10 years in federal prison."

"And Justin," she asked. He had used his name, but she read the report and knew her husband. He would have wanted to save this kid.

"He's eighteen years old, the law considers him an adult," he admitted.

"But his dad is going to jail, is his mom in the picture?" she asked, pouring more wine.

"She died in child birth. The compound is the only life he knows," Henry told her, pain evident in his eyes.

"You set him up in a hotel room and are going to help him find a job," she said knowingly.

He couldn't hide his smile. "Best Western on Grand Ave. He has an interview in the morning."

"I knew it!" she said. "You just can't help yourself."

Henry smiled and squeezed her hand. Looking in her eyes, he could see the underlying stress. "So, I told her about my day, what about yours?"

"Well, we made the world a safer place for thousands of people," she started.

He sensed her stall tactics and was well versed in the dance. He was tired and decided to short circuit the run around. "Are any of those people in this house?"

She grimaced. "Well, no. Not exactly."

Silence reigned.

"So maybe I upset a drug cartel today," she finally admitted. Henry offered a small grunt of acknowledgement, but didn't speak. "Ok, maybe I upset a few drug cartels today, but to be fair I wasn't the only one."

"Uh-huh, are you the only one who needs additional security?" he tried not to let the danger of her job get to him.

Offering her sly smile, she reached for her wine, "Turns out you need additional security too."

~~/~~

Elizabeth was up early the next morning. Making coffee she cursed Jason for refusing once again to take the trash out. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she tied up the bag and headed for the back door. Trying not to wake anyone, she eased the door shut behind her and lifted the lid from the trash can. Before she could complete her task, a strong arm reached around her midsection and a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to break free, but her attacker was immoveable. Her only option was to fight dirty, if she could just have a second to fill her lungs with air, agents would converge. Biting down on the hand, the man grunted, but refused to be distracted from his task. He slammed her against the brick wall, and Elizabeth's head made contact, stunning her. It was the only opening the man needed to release her waist and plunge a needle into the side of her neck. Slowly her world when dark.

TBC


	2. Clothed in purple and scarlet

Henry rolled over in bed and wasn't surprised to find his wife's side empty. What did shock him was the time. He had slept in until 7 a.m. Standing stiffly he heard a cell phone ring downstairs and the familiar commotion of the kids getting ready for school. He slipped on some jeans and a faded sweat shirt and Joined his family.

"…can't believe you're going to just be a sheep." Jason said in clouded superiority. One day, he would learn how to engage in a debate style other than direct antagonism. Henry hoped anyway.

"Just because I don't happen to have a problem with my school's change in discipline doesn't mean I'm a sheep," Alison informed her brother. "Some of us just have an easier time 'conforming to reasonable standards of socially acceptable behavior.'"

Stevie chuckled as she poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her dad. She knew why he had been gone early that week and always seemed to understand the seriousness of the moment without making a big deal about it. He accepted it with a kiss to her temple and moved to clean up the battlefield that had become breakfast preparations. "Did mom leave already?" he asked and sighed when he didn't see a trash bag in the trash can. "Jason, taking the garbage out also means replacing the bag."

Jason stopped his rapid texting and looked up with some guilt. "I forgot to take it out last night. I had to finish my history paper."

Too tired to lecture his son on responsibility and the importance of starting his homework early, he shook out the new bag. A floral chemical smell wafted up.

"The coffee pot was full," Stevie said. Henry stopped and looked questioningly to her. "The coffee, mom must have made it, but it was full, she didn't take any."

Henry straightened and looked at the appliance with skepticism. Before he could question the moment a knock at the door interrupted him. "Everyone pack up, the train leaves the station in ten minutes," he told Jason and Alison and headed for the door. It opened to the imposing figure of one of Elizabeth's security agents. "Matt, are you going with us to take the kids to school? I know some of the protocol has changed."

"No, Dr. McCord. I'm with MSec today. She has a meeting at eight…" he trailed off reading the signs of confusion. Bringing his wrist microphone to his mouth he raised the alarm and moved to the back of the house while Henry ran upstairs to see if he had missed some sign or note.

"Elizabeth!" Henry called out. The noise downstairs stopped for a moment and then all three kids moved to the base of the stairs. When Henry appeared at the top, he looked down with some concern and building fear. "Call her cell," it wasn't an order to anyone in particular. Jason, who already had his phone in his hand, started dialing while several more agents came in the front door.

Henry froze in place, waiting for her to answer. When the muffled ringing went to voicemail, he moved to the kitchen. She made coffee, then what, he silently wondered. The floral smell lingered. "The trash!" he exclaimed and moved to the back door. Matt stopped him before he could reach the threshold.

"Dr. McCord, we need you to stay inside," he commanded, and pushed his way into the entry way to close the door.

Henry strained to see if Elizabeth was out there and saw some blood on the brick wall that hid the trash cans. "Matt, tell me what's going on. Is she out there?" he asked with as much calm as he could command for the sake of the kids.

The agent shook his head. "No, it looks like there was a struggle, but she's not out there."

~~/~~

Elizabeth's head was throbbing. She could feel each heart beat like a knife poking at her temple. She couldn't see and she wasn't sure if her eyes were even open. When she moved to touch her head, she felt a strange tug and realized her hands were bound behind her. As she came to this realization, a pain at her wrists started to work its way up her arms until it was almost unbearable. She stamped down panic and pain and tried to listen. Some muffled voices spoke in another room. She couldn't be sure, but it sounded like English. Shifting she tried to figure out what she was lying on. The hardness had some warmth and give. She figured it was wood not concrete, so likely not a basement. If she could figure out why she couldn't see, maybe she could find a window.

With as much information as she was going to get from her impaired senses, she tried to remember what happened. She remembered starting the coffee, but not much else. Trying to clear her mind, she calmed herself. Trash. She took out the trash. Then a someone grabbed her. The thought caused her heart to race, but she pushed passed the fear. He had been about a head taller than her in her heels. She remembered her head pressing against his chest and his chin resting on the crown of her head as he grabbed her. So he was at least six feet tall, muscular build. None of this help her and she tried not to get frustrated. Then she remembered a small detail that chilled her. She refused to believe her memory, but the more she concentrated, the more she was sure, at the wrist of the hand that had been clamped tightly over her mouth to muffle her cries for help was a secret service microphone.

~~/~~

Henry sat, quietly, numbly as the briefing happened around him. Every member of the secret service detail was at the table trying to determine how someone could have slipped passed their security net, subdue their charge, and slip out undetected. Joining them were a small army of intelligence officers that spanned south and central America to Middle Eastern intelligence officers. At the head of the table was the Secretary of Homeland Security, the directors of the CIA and FBI. It was a strange co-mingling of government agencies. For the moment, the leaders at the head of the table were listening.

"Based on the timeline, it must have happened right before shift change. We rotate the time that occurs daily, but there must have been some clues they picked up on and got in and out when our coverage was compromised," Matt said but didn't sound like he believed it himself.

The tech at the computer was replaying camera feeds. "Someone knocked camera number 3 out of position at 0500. They're not used for real time monitoring so we missed it. Without that coverage, we have no idea how they got MSec out of the area."

"There's been no intelligence chatter from normal channels about this abduction, if it's one of the cartels, they pulled it off with no help," a young female agent with a severe straw colored bun said.

Henry glanced at her report she handed out to everyone and noted her name, Eden. It stood out for its uniqueness and a reminder to the church he may have helped the FBI dismantle. It was an issue he hadn't processed fully yet, and it was clear he wouldn't have the time now. He packed away all thoughts of Reverend Morning Star and his congregation to focus on the real threat. The six most vocal drug cartels were listed with a threat assessment based on their historical actions taken against government officials. The problem was, this was an unprecedented act to go after a U.S. cabinet member. It didn't fit the narrative.

Another report made its way around the table. "No one on the dark web has taken credit for this, and there are no auctions," Eden continued without emotion, but seemed to trail off when she remembered the husband of the victim was in the room. It was unconventional, but given his clearance and his work with Murphy Station, no one had a reason to disbar him.

Considering the statement, Henry did the math, "They've had her for at least five hours. She'd be worth millions, maybe billions on the black market. If that's what they intended, they wouldn't be sitting on her. Or if the cartels wanted to make an example of her and derail the Trans-American Partnership that was just established, her death would have been recorded and made public."

The truth of his words hung in the air. No one could argue with the cold logic.

"Maybe they want to get information from her first before handing her over?" Eden offered.

The Sectary of Homeland Security cleared his throat. The Secret Service detail was his and he carried clear authority over all members in the room. "Whoever has her isn't getting out of the country with her. There are checkpoints and the city is essentially locked down since her disappearance was discovered. They had two hours to leave the D.C. area, which is possible if they were as organized as it appears, but risky. That time of the morning, they would have stood out on surveillance cameras through the district. Moving her during rush hour provides greater cover. We think we mobilized quickly enough to cast a wide net. I want everyone to submit their reports within the hour. We'll consolidate intelligence and brief the president," Secretary Brown's voice was steady and carried an air of confidence that was desperately needed. He made eye contact with Henry. "We're going to get her back. Your family will need to stay in protective custody for now. That includes you." Before Henry could protest Brown continued. "If they contact you…I don't have to be the one to remind you family can make irresponsible decisions when it comes to the safety of their loved ones. You need a governor to make sure we're all making the best decisions for Bess."

Henry held his tongue. It was a responsible position, but not one he was willing to comply with. Looking down at the reports in front of him, he considered his options. "I understand your position, and I don't disagree. With your permission, I would like to engage Murphy Station," he said pushing on before anyone could object. "Send anyone you'd like to join me. They can answer my calls if they want, read all my emails. Just let me do something to find her."

Secretary Brown looked from Henry to the CIA and FBI directors. They all had families and understood the position Henry was in, having skills and a network to help. Each one nodded and Secretary Brown looked to the young agent sitting across the table. "Eden, you're assigned to Dr. McCord as long as he is outside the larger security detail."

She offered a curt nod, "Yes sir."

"If anyone tries to contact him or influence him in anyway use your immediate discretion and then report directly to myself," he continued. "Let's get to work and bring Secretary McCord home."

~~/~~

Eden entered the war room set aside for Murphy Station at war college. Henry followed his new advance person and was relieved to see Jane Fellows and Jose Campos already hard at work. He didn't doubt the capabilities of the entire team assembled by Secretary Brown, but he didn't exactly trust that team to follow the truth if it contradicted long held, institutional assumptions. "Thanks for coming," he told them both when they looked up from their screens.

"We're going to do everything we can to find her, Henry," Jane immediately assured him, followed by a nod of confirmation from Jose. "We're not convinced Los Zetas or CJNG are behind this, they have nothing to gain from just a risky action. If any cartel is behind this, it's symbolic…"

"…and she's dead already." Henry finished her sentence after she caught herself. His phone chirped alerting him to a new message. Looking down, he was quickly aware of Eden moving closer, taking her commission seriously. "It's from a person I'm helping find a job," he told her, holding up the message.

Still unconvinced, the agent took the device and read the entire message. She arched an eyebrow at the clearly religious rant contained in the message.

"He grew up in a cult," Henry said, knowing how contrived that sounded. "I'm a religious expert, and I'm trying to help him."

Convince it was benign, she handed the phone back and turned her attention to Jane and Jose. While she explained her reason for invading their space she gave them copies of the official reports and Henry took a minute to read Justin's message.

 _Dr. McCord,_

 _I have taken the day to reflect on the events that transpired at our church and the reason for your intervention. I appreciate your acts of kindness, but I need to find my own path and have checked out of the hotel. I also canceled the interview you set up for me. I hope you don't take these actions as ungrateful. I saw something while we talked, and I believe I know the role I have been commissioned to fulfill._

 _You may not believe, but the beast has ascended from the bottomless pit. I saw the ten horns and seven heads. I know who controls the beast and I must do everything to remove this idol before all nations bow down before the beast._

 _I regret any pain my actions will cause you. I think you are innocent and well meaning, but under the spell of Babylon the great. I am not a danger to others and will not make the same mistakes my dad did._

 _Justin—Seeker of Truth_

Closing the message, Henry knew he needed time to process the choice this young man just made, but he couldn't expend the energy. Putting the phone on the table he looked on as Eden, Jane, and Jose exchanged theories and poked holes in each one. No matter how they looked at it, it just didn't feel like the act of an organized drug cartel. Before they could move on to the other possibilities, Henry's phone rang. He jumped up and was annoyed Eden once again intervened.

"Who's Nadine?" she asked.

Henry had to take a moment and kick himself for not reaching out to his wife's office. "It's Elizabeth's chief of staff. I'll put her on speaker."

"Dr. McCord?" Nadine's voice filled the room.

"Nadine, I'm sorry I didn't call you," he started.

"It's alright. Matt contacted us as soon as they ordered the checkpoints and filled us it. We also have received all intelligence reports to date," she explained and waited a beat. "We think they're wrong."

Letting out a small breath, he was grateful another competent team came to the same conclusion. "We agree. We need to see if any other organization has the resources to pull this off and a reason to do it. Can you and Jay come to the war college?" he asked.

A car door shut as she answered, "We're already on the way."

~~/~~

A door with rusty hinges suddenly came to life causing Elizabeth to jump and unconsciously shrink back against the wall. Hands were on her, guiding her up into a sitting position. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked and was reward with a vicious slap to the face. The force left her ears ringing and the taste of blood in her mouth.

"You'll be quiet, the whore hasn't earned the right to speak," the voice hissed out.

Whatever she expected, this wasn't close. There was no hint of an accent, south American or otherwise. No demands for national security secrets. She had developed a short list of possible groups who had taken her and why. This interaction had knocked the first two reasons off the list: retribution from the cartels for the TAP agreement and a terrorist cell hoping to gain an advantage in the middle east. What was left? A black market auction for a desperate money grab, a radical nationalist group upset with the Iran deal, a group trying to blackmail President Dalton but couldn't get to his family and thought she was the next best thing, or something else she hadn't thought of yet. Her thoughts were interrupted when cold liquid hit her lips. Feeling the rim of a glass, she sipped the liquid hungrily. When the man felt she had had enough he removed the glass. "Thank you," she said without thinking and steeled herself for another blow. When it didn't come she decided he could appreciate good manners.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" he asked.

Elizabeth hesitated. She did, in fact, need to pee, but worried this man would be required to "help" her and she wasn't sure if the urge was serious enough to endure the embarrassment and potential violation. On the other hand, she didn't know when she'd have another opportunity and was reticent to mess herself. She slowly nodded her head.

In response, he hauled her to her feet suddenly. The movement left her dizzy. Possibly the aftereffects from the drugs, the head wound or the previous slap, but she found herself leaning against the wall willing herself to stay upright while the bindings around her ankles were removed.

"Martha, come and take this woman to the toilet," he shouted while roughly pulling her away from the wall by her arms.

Although she was more relieved that a woman was going to escort her, being in a vulnerable position with so many unknowns filled her with apprehension. Smaller, more gentle hands took her bruised right arm from the man and she was guided out of her prison.

"There's a small step coming up," a quiet voice announced. Once they cleared the minor hurdle, the pair moved to the right and Elizabeth felt the cool porcelain near her knees. Turning her around, hands moved to the button on her pants, causing her to flinch away.

"Please," Elizabeth silently pleaded. "Let me?"

"I'm sorry, I know this is uncomfortable, but it's just you and me. I've closed the door. No one else will see," Martha explained. "I can't remove the shackles even if I wanted to, they're welded on and locked together."

The words suddenly made sense. The pain at her wrists weren't the result of chafing, they were burns from the heat of melting iron. Trying to place these facts into a context that made sense, she didn't notice the woman had pulled down her pants and underwear and was pushing her to sit. What was happening?

~~/~~

Henry walked through the door of the safe house physically and mentally exhausted. No scenario the rogue team thought of made sense in the context of the actions, or rather inactions, of the person or persons who abducted his wife. As he walked through to the living area, she saw all three kids leaning against each other, sleeping with the cable news channel running images of Elizabeth. The media machine started asking questions as soon as the checkpoints were established. Everyone agreed a version of the truth was preferable to the citizens wondering if they were at risk of a terrorist attack. Also, with the approval ratings Bess enjoyed, it made most commuters more willing to face delays if it helped the authorities. Jane and Jose were still working with Nadine and Jay, but everyone agreed Henry needed to at least check in on the kids. He had responsibilities beyond finding Elizabeth and he had to accept that reality. Moving to turn off the television, he froze. The video of Elizabeth standing behind President Dalton less than 48 hours ago was running. "Purple and scarlet," he said out loud.

"Dad?" Stevie was awake and rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Did they find her?"

Turning, he had to process this new scenario, but needed to reassure the kids. "No sweetie, but we're working some leads. Help me get these two to bed?" he asked picking up Jason.

Stevie moved to Alison's side, gently waking her and consoling her sister when she realized it wasn't her mother prodding her to bed. Once the two youngest were settled, Henry knew Stevie wasn't going to bed without answers. He wished he had some, he also wished he were in his home with access to his extensive library. Grabbing his phone he saw the low battery icon. "Did we grab any computers? Chargers?" he asked his oldest.

"Yeah, I packed both for you," she said moving to a bag that was unpacked near the door.

Powering up the laptop he handed his phone to her as she plugged in the power cord. "Thanks," he said, still wishing he had some information to share.

"What can I do?" she asked.

Henry was torn between sheltering Stevie from the situation and understanding a need to do something. "I need you to find an online text of Revelation, and a picture of the group that signed the TAP yesterday," he explained hoping she didn't ask questions until he had put the pieces together. As soon as the computer was on, he opened the letter from Justin. Next to it, he opened a word document and starting typing everything he remembered Justin said to him before he spoke to his dad.

When Stevie stood to pull something else from the suitcase, a tear stung his eyes. She had grabbed his bible for him. Putting an arm around her, he brought her in to a hug as she sat in the chair next to him. "I thought you might like to have that with you, it seemed silly," she started.

"It's perfect Thank you," he offered and went back to typing. "Look up Revelation 17 or 18. I think there's a reference to purple and scarlet."

She nodded and then handed him the phone. On the small screen was the photo of the entire Trans-American Partnership group. He counted and really wanted to be wrong. "Seven heads and ten horns," he said and called Jane.

TBC


	3. Repay her double for her deeds

a/n: Sorry for delay on this chapter. It was such an important chapter, I needed to do some rewrites to make sure I set it up correctly. The rest will be much easier to write.

Chapter 3

When freedoms are taken away from a person, they become thankful for the little things. It's an odd dichotomy that arises between captor and captive. Elizabeth sat, still blindfolded on the hard, wooden floor, waiting to understand who had her and why, but her legs were no longer bound and she had regained some feeling in her lower extremities. Even though they were to blame for her previous discomfort, she still felt grateful they did not tie her up again when she was returned to her prison after the embarrassing trip to the bathroom. With nothing but time to think, she imagined what would happen when her kidnappers revealed their plan to her, she wondered how Henry and the kids were handling the situation and desperately missed each one of them, she hoped no one she loved was putting themselves in danger to find her… that thought caused her to think about Henry. There were protocols in place to make sure she didn't behave irresponsibly, but she also knew all about her husband's determination and disregard for the rules when they got in the way of his moral compass.

Before her thoughts could lead her down a dark path, the door across the room opened again. Calming herself, she stayed quiet.

"Stand up," a new voice commanded.

Bracing her back against the wall, she used her legs to slowly stand. And she waited. Scraping sounds echoed off the wall and she heard splashing water. Sensing movement near her she tried to press herself farther away but the wall stubbornly refused to budge. Hands clamped around both biceps and pushed her forward. After a few steps, pressure bent her forward until she was forced to kneel.

" _Come, I will show you the judgment of the great whore who is seated on many waters, with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication…_ " the voice recited and strong hands pushed her head forward and down. In seconds her head was complete submerged in freezing water, and while two men held her in place.

Doing her best to stay measured and calm, she refused to panic. They wanted a reaction and she wouldn't give it to them. Seconds passed, and she turned inward. They had a reason for taking her, drowning her after holding her for a day was not logical. Stay calm, she told herself. Someone grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up. Taking small, measured breaths, she waited.

"… _and with the wine of whose fornication the inhabitants of the earth have become drunk_ ," he said, his voice moving closer and her head was once again submerged. Infuriated by her lack of reaction, steel toed boots made contact with her rib cage.

The action caused Elizabeth to suck in water. It burned her lungs. This time, when her head was pulled out of the water she gasped for air.

"Pick her up," the voice commanded. She heard keys, felt a tug on the shackles behind her back, and her hands were free, hanging loosely by her side as she was pulled forward. Unexpectedly, the blindfold was removed. Two men stood on either side of her, and a younger man rounded on her, searching her eyes. "What do you have to say about your iniquities?"

"I don't understand," she answered, and wasn't lying. Her honesty was awarded with a punch to the stomach. Her already aching ribs revolted. If the two men hadn't been holding, she would have been on the ground again.

The fair-haired man, with the vicelike grip on her right bicep scowled, "Justin, she will never admit her sins."

"We owe it to the world to make sure I'm right, Caleb. We can't act with impunity," the one called Justin answered. Taking the shackles, he pulled her hands together in front of her, eliciting a cry of pain. "I know it hurts, Elizabeth. The burns will heal," he told her, lifting his own sleeve to reveal old wounds.

Looking from the healed burns and back to the warm, brown eyes, she whispered, "Justin. Justin Peters."

Caleb hissed, "Only the Great Babylon could know your name."

Justin remained silent while he snapped the lock through two metal loops on either side of her shackles in front of her. He backed her up and she heard some strange squeaking noises behind her. "Her husband could have told her, we can't jump to conclusions. The enemy is cunning and we can't be wrong about this," he said reaching above her head.

Craning her neck, Elizabeth tried to see what he was reaching for, when a hook came into view, she tensed. Justin deftly looped the hook around the steel bar of the lock and he nodded to his left. The squeaking resumed and tension in the rope attached to the hook increased until her arms were above her head. Momentarily, movement stopped and she looked into her captor's eyes. "Who do you think I am?" she asked. Knowing the outcome of her initial questions, she couldn't guarantee additional questions. Of all the possible questions flew through her head while she took in the situation, this one seemed the most pressing.

Justin nodded again to left and turned away. As Elizabeth felt the pull at her shoulders, she finally lost her footing and contact with the floor. Panic started rising up and she feared she wouldn't get the answer to the question. Instead of leaving, he picked up an open book on a table and some sort of leather strap. He began to read from the book, "I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was full of blasphemous names, and it had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her fornication; and on her forehead was written a name, a mystery: 'Babylon the great, mother of whores and of earth's abominations'."

~~/~~

Henry was watching his team at Murphy Station through a video window on his laptop. They were considering his discovery with some skepticism, but he could tell Jose was coming around.

"How would they have the expertise to orchestrate the kidnapping? They outsmarted five highly trained agents. And they just saw her on TV two days ago. They didn't have weeks to plan," Jane reasoned.

There were no good answers yet. Henry shook his head, "Maybe they got lucky. Maybe they saw something only an outsider would see. I don't know how, but I know who and why."

"I understand who you think has her, but I'm still not sure why and what they're going to do," Jane continued while Campos worked feverishly at a computer.

Looking at the young girl sitting off camera, Henry grew uncomfortable. "Stevie, can you go check on Jason and Ally?" he asked, hoping to spare her from the worst-case scenario. When she looked ready to protest, he pleaded with his eyes. He watched her leave and when he was certain she was out of earshot, he continued. "They think she's the Great Babylon who controls the beast. In the text, Babylon was burned. Now, those who understand the context know Babylon isn't a person, but a city. I don't think they're understanding is that sophisticated."

Clearly troubled, Jane cleared her throat. "They've had her from almost twenty-four hours now. Do you think they did that already?"

Henry lifted one shoulder and let it drop, "I have no idea. Justin is young and may be rash, but I'm not sure he's a killer. I think he'll need to work himself into the idea," he said and paused. "Assuming he's in charge." There were too many unknowns. "The FBI is still at the evacuated compound. They must have a secondary location," Henry reasoned.

"I'm working on that," Jose interrupted still working at his computer behind Jane.

"I'm going to see if I can talk to Reverend Morning Star," Henry announced. "I need to understand what Justin is thinking."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jane asked. "I can stand back and observe."

"That would be great. Let me make sure the kids are squared away and then I'll coordinate with the feds," he said and logged off. Turning he saw all three of his children standing out of sight of the web cam. Henry grimaced. "Okay, everyone take a seat on the couch," he instructed. As they huddled close together, Stevie in the middle wrapping her arms around the shoulders of her brother and sister, Henry sat on the coffee table in front of them. "We think we know who has mom. I'm going to do everything to bring her home tonight."

Instinctually, everyone looked at the clock hanging on the wall. 7:00 a.m. Everyone from the McCord family had a difficult day to get through.

~~/~~

The scream echoed off the walls of the small room. Then silence descended for several beats before a small grunt from a man clearly exerting great effort filled the silence followed by a crack of leather snapping through the warm air. Elizabeth cried out again at the jarring pain along her back. As the momentum transferred to her limp form, the pulley holding her up squeaked and she swung slightly. Her fingers were numb. Her shoulders burned with fatigue. A terrible pain ran from her left elbow and up her arm. While she waited for the next blow she wished she had paid more attention to Henry's studies. Sure, she had read every book he wrote and took a real interest in his work when he was a theology professor, but it was another thing entirely to apply that knowledge to her current situation. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She prayed. Out loud.

"Stop," Justin suddenly came to life. The man behind her went blissfully still. "What did you say?"

"I didn't…I wasn't…" her throat was raw and her breath was coming out in short gasps from the pain, but she had to regain some composure. "I was praying," she finally said and was proud that it sounded stronger than she felt.

"For yourself?" he asked. His blue eyes searching hers.

Shaking her head, she took another steady breath and held his stead gaze. "No, for you."

He took a step back. For a minute, she was certain he was about to order his man to resume the beating, but to her relief he dismissed him. "Caleb, go get Martha and then get some rest."

To her knowledge, as Caleb closed the door, she and Justin were the only two in the room. "I'm not who you think I am," she said carefully hoping he would be more rationale one-on-one. "But I don't blame you for your faith. I'll do what you need me to do to show you, I'm not helping the beast." She felt silly saying the words and hoped those feelings didn't show through.

Before he could speak, a middle-aged woman entered the room. "Elder Fellows said you wanted me," she spoke to Justin and did not acknowledge Elizabeth hanging from the chains.

"I need to pray. Let her down and help her get cleaned up," he said and turned to leave.

"Thank you," she said to his retreating form. He paused at the door, but did not turn to acknowledge her words. The woman named Martha moved to a hook on the wall about ten feet away where the other end of her bindings were secured. She was short and solidly built, with dark brown hair peppered with strands of gray was pulled back into a braid. She wore a simple smock dress that was synched together around her waist by an apron.

"I'll go as slow as I can as I lower you, but I can't control the speed of the rope and hold you up at the same time," she explained as if this wasn't the first time she had lowered a person hanging from the ceiling.

Elizabeth bent her neck to see as much of the floor as she could and felt a slight jerk as the weight shifted from the wall to the stout woman. She swung slightly and Elizabeth realized her feet were bare. She wasn't sure when she lost her shoes, or maybe they were taken to make it hard for her to run if she found a way out of the room. Finally, the cold wood of the floor met the balls of her feet and she hoped she had the strength to stay upright. When the tension relaxed on her shoulders, she couldn't stifle the groan. Her muscles had been over taxed for far too long and the pain was almost intolerable. Her focus on her shoulders and wrists distracted her from her task of standing and before she knew it, the floor was coming up to meet her face and then her world went black.

~~/~~

Henry and Jane walked through the cement hallway of the prison's holding area to the interview rooms. Morning Star hadn't requested a lawyer and had agreed to speak with them. Henry for his part was nervous. It wasn't often that his academic knowledge on theology was put to such a test. The questions he routinely sought to answer mattered most to people who were gone long ago. That his wife's life could depend on his ability to navigate the complex, and at times illogical, reasoning's of faith was terrifying. He hoped his baseline fear didn't cause him to second guess his gut.

A loud buzz notified everyone in the vicinity that the door to the holding area was unlocked. A guard opened the heavy door and allowed Henry to get another look at Douglas Peters. The orange prison jumpsuit made him seem smaller, but his demeanor hadn't changed. He sat straight in his chair, giving off an air of superiority. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Professor McCord," he said genially. "I requested some of your books from the library. The religious section is extensive. I feel like I've gotten to know you these past few days."

Ignoring him for the moment, Henry sat in the metal chair across the table from the man. He had to get control of his emotions. Brute force was not going to get the answers he needed, but he still wanted desperately to sucker punch the smug pastor. Clearing his throat, he hoped his voice would be calm and steady. "And who do you think I am?" he asked.

Morning Star shifted in his chair to lean closer. "You've got an academic understanding of religion. It makes you think you have faith. It makes you easily controlled," he said eyes flicking momentarily to Jane and then back.

"By the beast," Henry supplied.

"The beast doesn't care about you, its Babylon that has her claws in you. She's deceived you but you can still be redeemed," he continued.

"How can I be redeemed? What do I need to do to understand?"

" _Come out of her, my people, so that you do not take part in her sins, and so that you do not share in her plagues; for her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities,"_ he recited Revelation.

The man couldn't know that his people had abducted Elizabeth, and he had to trend lightly to not show his hand. His presence had to have caused Morning Star to suspect something had happened, and may have developed a plan when the key players had been identified. "Where would I go? To escape her influence?" he asked.

The reverend leaned back and looked knowingly at him. " _Render to her as she herself has rendered, and repay her double for her deeds; mix a double_ —"

"—I didn't come to hear you quote the book of Revelation. I want to find Justin," Henry said. Jane shifted to be more visible in his periphery. She wasn't a theological expert, but she knew how to get information from a suspect. Her concern that he may let emotions sideline the questioning was likely growing.

"How would I know where Justin is? I've been locked in here, sequestered from any communication with the outside world," he said, not attempting to hide his understanding of the situation.

Knowing the jig was up, Henry decided to take a swing, hoping to catch the man off guard. "He orchestrated the kidnapping of the secretary of state. That's an act of terrorism and I want to find him before the wrath of the federal government descends on him or you for that matter." The sudden shock on the older man's face told him he won that round.

Shoring up the cracks in the façade, Peters leaned forward again. "If he did what you say, he had a reason."

"I don't care what his reason was, I want to help him."

"You want to save your wife," Peters countered.

"I want to save them both," he said and he genuinely meant it. Justin was as much a victim of his dad's delusions as Elizabeth was. "Help me find them before he does something we can't save him from."

Jane took the moment to interject. She saw the obvious signs of fatherly concern. "Mr. Peters, we're going to find him. Whether or not he makes it out of that confrontation alive may depend on how quickly we can find him," she said, letting the information sink in.

A moment passed and Henry thought they had gotten to him. Until the concern faded to resolve. "If he dies, he dies a martyr. … _her plagues will come in a single day—pestilence and mourning and famine—and she will be burned with fire; for mighty is the Lord God who judges her._ "


	4. This calls for a mind that has wisdom

Chapter 4: This calls for a mind that has wisdom

Elizabeth was aware of muffled voices first. She wasn't sure if the problem was with her hearing or the distance of the conversation. The question didn't matter as pain quickly replaced the muffled voices with an incessant buzzing. It was hard for her to determine where the pain originated and finally decided there were multiple points of originated all culminating in a white-hot buzz she could feel, see, hear, and taste. As she shifted the buzz exploded into white-hot, liquid pain. It slid from her left elbow, up to her shoulder and neck and then back down to her elbow. Sweat broke out on her brow and she bit her lip until she tasted blood.

"Shh, it's ok," a soothing voice said, startling Elizabeth from her private hell. A cool cloth brushed over her face and with great force of will, she opened her eyes.

"Please, can you release my hands. My arm…" she trailed off. She didn't really know what was wrong with it, she only knew there was something really wrong. The strain placed on it from the lack of mobility was becoming hard to ignore.

"I will ask Elder Peters," Martha told her. "We need to sit you up so you can drink some water."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No moving."

A soft chuckle escaped the other woman's lips. "Let me see if I can get the key to the lock, that will let me stabilize your arm. You need water," she said standing and leaving the room.

Taking a moment, Elizabeth tried to listen again. Frustrated and feeling like she knew less than when the nightmare started, she was forced to wait for Martha to return. She was qualified to negotiate in a myriad of situations but in that moment, found herself at a complete loss. The key to successful negotiations was to understand what all parties ultimately wanted. She certainly knew what she wanted, clean clothes, hospital-grade painkillers, and her family. What Justin wanted was a mystery… "Come out, the mystery is over," she said trying to remember the information in the FBI report and Henry's account.

Quietly, Martha reentered and gently closed the door. Kneeling next to the secretary, she produced a key and gently unlocked the padlock joining either shackle. "Which arm?" she asked before making any moves.

"My left, I think it's my elbow, maybe my shoulder," she said and trusted the woman to reposition her arm.

"Try not to tense up, and remember to breathe," she instructed, slowly moving Elizabeth to a sitting position. The cries of pain were the only sound. "Do you want to stand and walk to the chair or stay here?" she asked, leaving a steadying hand on her good arm, reaching for a bottle of water with the other.

Hating how vulnerable she felt sitting on the floor, Bess looked skeptically at the chair. "Chair," she finally hissed out through clenched teeth. If she thought sitting up was painful, the process of standing was excruciating, but the end result felt like an achievement. Letting her arms sit limply on her lap she let Martha helped her sip water. "What does he want from me?" she asked between drinks.

Martha's brow creased as she considered the question. "There is what Elder Peters wants and what Elder Fellows wants," she began. "They do not agree and I don't know who is right."

"Who is in charge?" Elizabeth asked and watched as Martha gave a side long glance at the door.

Leaning in, she lowered her voice. "For now, Elder Peters. We are loyal to Reverend Morning Star and we think Justin is carrying out his wishes. But some are growing restless. They want you…"

"…they want me dead," she supplied, she had gathered that from the endless recitation of scripture she listened to while they 'cleansed her from her iniquity' through the leather strap. "And you?"

"I do not know what to think. Elder Fellows says there is a lot of evidence that you are in control of the beast. Even if that is true, I don't think we can stop the prophecy from coming true. It is in the book, I believe we should let the world run its course and we should prepare to help as many people as we can before the Lord returns," she said. "I don't see were we've been instructed to take a life. Any life."

Bess took a shallow breath, careful not to disturb her arm. As the pain settled, she began to feel her other injuries again. Her ribs were sore, maybe cracked. Her back stung as several welts were pushed against the hardness of the chair. Before she could respond to Martha's assessment, the door open again. Justin stood, open bible in one hand and another chair in the other. Silently, Martha backed out of the room while Peters positioned the chair opposite of his captive. Elizabeth waited.

"Tell me, do you believe in God?" he began.

Trend lightly, she told herself. This was one negotiation where the less words she used the better off she would be. "Yes," she said, but laced with pain she didn't recognize her own voice.

"Do you need more water?" he asked kindly.

"If I can chase it with some Tylenol," she said with a small smile.

"Sorry, this house was never stocked with supplies. We could only invest in the basics when we had to move. Thanks to your husband," he said, but there was no trace of bitterness in his voice.

"I read the report and I talked to Henry. I can guarantee you he feels guilty about disrupting your worship," she started.

Justin waved his hand in dismissal. "My father had lost his way, he should have never challenged the search warrant. We have a greater purpose."

"To stop the beast or to save people from the beast?" she asked.

"You ask an interesting question. It's one I've been wrestling with. Tell me, if you were presented with a situation where things had been set in motion to hurt thousands and you had a guaranteed way to save hundreds or a slim chance to save thousands…how do you choose?" he leaned in, genuinely interested in her expert opinion as the country's chief diplomat.

Without blinking, she confidently answered, "You find someone else with a different perspective to see if you can find a guaranteed way to save thousands."

"I'm here then, looking for your perspective. Tell me, how to I stop the beast when its written in here that he is inevitable," he asked raising up his open bible.

This was the moment that could decide her fate. She had to set aside her skepticism that the book he held contained the spoken word of God. She had to consider Justin a diplomatic problem with a different moral code than herself. She had to meet him where he was at. "What if the beast doesn't show up for another thousand years? When Revelation was written, do you think the church thought the prophecy was written for them?"

He considered her comments but didn't speak.

Emboldened, she continued. "Do you think the Jewish people during the holocaust thought Hitler was the beast? Evil exists, we can't stop that, and sometimes it takes a form we recognize. It's up to us to do as much good as we can despite the evil in the world," she told him and then remembered a quote Henry had used many times, " _Good can exist without evil, whereas evil cannot exist without good_."

"Justin!" Caleb flew through the door interrupting Justin and Elizabeth's conversation. The suddenness caused her to jump, then tense, and then squeeze her eyes to the pain. "The FBI are getting close. We have to move."

~~/~~

Henry sat in the back of the SUV with Jane. The motorcade was ready, engines running, but idle in the prison parking lot. His partner was on phone with Jose getting an update. For his part, he wasn't really listening. He had been holding himself together for the kids, for himself. If he lost it, he would be no help to Murphy Station. He would fail his wife. And yet, despite his herculean efforts to stamped down his fear, he felt like he was still failing his wife. Peters was no help, he provided no information they could use to find Justin or Elizabeth. He looked at his watch. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. His promise to his kids to bring their mother home was looking like a long shot. Of all the risks she faced, he should have been uniquely qualified to resolve the situation.

"I'll tell him," Jane said, wrapping up her call. "We're on our way." Ending the call, she leaned forward to speak to Eden, who sat behind the wheel. "We need to go to the situation room. There's been a development."

Sitting back, she looked at Henry's anxious eyes. "They have a lead on a possible location."

"Why aren't we going there?" he asked. He refused to be sidelined. Especially if a negotiator was needed. "Where are they?"

"Henry, you can't be there, you need to stay out of the FBI's way," she tried to reason with him. The fear, pain and determination in his eyes told her she was fighting a losing battle. "Remember that custom made door? They tracked down the company that installed it and learned of another location the same customer installed a similar door. They're running some surveillance on a house in Forest Glen."

"If there's a hostage situation, they'll need me there. Justin will talk to me," he said, willing her to see his logic.

"Fine, we'll go to the field HQ and check in there. It's the FBI's show, you'll have to convince them not to kick you out," she said and gave Eden the address. She looked at Henry's bouncing knee and shaking hand. They had a complicated professional relationship, but she had grown to consider him a friend. Gently, she laid her hand on top of his to settle his nervous energy. "We're going to get her back."

He nodded and looked out the window. "In what condition?" he asked the impossible question as the motorcade wound its way through the changing streets. The industrial buildings gave way to shopping centers. Families were going about their business as he considered the irony. His wife was a target to any number of groups, but it was a religious group he was responsible for crippling that got her. It was a wardrobe choice before a press conference that got their attention and an incomplete chore that gave the group the opportunity. The series of events seemed like a perfect storm no one could have prepared for.

"Stop," Jane commanded getting his attention. "Stop blaming yourself."

He moved his hand out from under hers and rested it on top, squeezing gently. "I don't know who else to blame. Her stylist?" he asked as they approached the checkpoint and were cleared through. Not interested in continuing the conversation, he left the SUV before it had come to a complete stop. Entering the field headquarters, it was clear they weren't very far behind. The personnel buzzed with activity, connecting monitors, establishing connections with surveillance teams. Catching Matt's attention, the pair found a quiet corner in the mobile pod.

"A surveillance drone has flown over the property. It was originally three lots that cover 5-acres and adjacent to undeveloped land. There are multiple structures on the property, we're not sure which house is occupied yet, but any escape route has been blocked" he explained.

~~/~~

Justin returned to the room. She had been left alone while he and Caleb left to develop a plan with the other members of the church. The young man covered the distance from the door to her chair in three long strides. He grabbed her right arm and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her protests. "We have to move," he said, leaving her standing while he grabbed a blindfold from his back pocket. It was a curious gesture and one she hadn't really considered. When she first regained consciousness she was blindfolded, but it had been removed by Justin. It didn't make sense in her mind. What didn't they want her to see that she hadn't already seen. Before she should be led from the room another person entered, breathing heavily.

"There are teams moving in, we're too late. We're not going to get out without a fight," she recognized Caleb's voice.

"Maybe we can negotiate," Justin said. "We have something they want. Secure her, I'm going to make a call."

The shuffling of feet and clatter of metal filled the room. When hands touched her again, they were rough. They pulled her wrists together, and she thought she was going to hyperventilate at the prospect of hanging again from the ceiling. "Please. Please don't. I can't," she pleaded as she was backed up two steps. The weight of the hook was added to the lock that had been re-secured, and before she could say or do anything, the hook was pulling her arms up above her head. Before they could take on the weight of her body, she blacked out from the agony.

~~/~~

Henry's phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the screen, he expected to see one of the kid's cell numbers. He mentally kicked himself for not checking it earlier. The unfamiliar number caused him to pause, but he assumed it was the land line of the safe house. "Hi, I so sorry I didn't call you guys," he started and silence greeted him. "Stevie?"

"Professor McCord," a young, male voice said.

Out of context, it took Henry far too long to place the voice. Finally, he looked up and made eye contact with Eden. "Justin? Are you okay? Is my wife ok?" he asked in rapid succession. A flurry of movement had traces running and a phone tap that had been established the previous day recording both sides of the conversation.

"I know your agents are closing in on us, I want my people to get out safely."

"I want everyone to get out safely, just come out of the house unarmed and this will all be over," Henry said, knowing he would never agree to the terms. Across the small room, the FBI deputy director, Mike Nelson was listening to the call from his command station and scribbled on a pad of paper, handing the sheet to Henry. _Send out the women and children_. "Let's start with the women and any children in the house. We'll get them all to safety."

Some muffled voices drifted through the phone. It sounded like arguing. There was someone else in the room that sounded like they were ready to stand their ground. Henry hoped Justin's cooler head would prevail. "We have eight women and twelve children. They're innocent and had nothing to do with Secretary McCord. I'll send them out."

Henry wanted desperately to ask if he was referring to the kidnapping of Elizabeth or if there was something else that had been done to her. "Good, that's good Justin."

"Then, I want you to come inside and talk to me." Justin's words caused Deputy Director Nelson to stand and shake his head.

"Send out your followers and we'll talk about it," he said sending an understanding look to Nelson. Silence greeted him and he pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the screen. "He hung up," Henry announced and looked at the video feed focused on the most prominent house.

"We've got movement at the front door," Eden said, drawing everyone else's attention to the small monitor. They all counted in their heads at the figures moved toward the awaiting SWAT team. Seconds stretched to minutes until all twenty were accounted for and moved out of the line of fire.

The door of the command unit opened and a young agent moved to Nelson, he whispered in his ear. She showed the deputy director a tablet, shielding it from the rest of the room. Henry divided his attention between the monitor to the exchange. "Henry," Mike said. "I need you to sit."

"I know what you're going to say, I'm the best person you have to negotiate the end of this standoff. I have a previous relationship with Justin—"

"Henry, sit," he said again, taking the tablet from his agent. "When the door opened, we got a micro drone inside. It's got a camera, and we have a live feed."

Jane, who had stayed on the sidelines since arriving, moved forward and repositioned a chair for her friend to sit. Henry went down fast. "Is she dead?" he asked, tears stinging his eyes.

Nelson shook his head, "No, she's still breathing, but this is going to be difficult."

A war waged inside Henry's head. It was Schrödinger's cat, if he didn't look at the screen she was safe and unharmed. He didn't want to shatter that illusion by looking. But he had to know, he had to see her. A shaking hand reached out, took the tablet, and he closed his eyes as he turned it toward himself. Jane's hand squeezed his shoulder as she got a look. Steeling himself one last time, he opened his eyes. His world crumbled. She was suspended from a hook attached to a pulley in the ceiling. Blindfolded, he couldn't tell if she was conscious, but he watched the rise and fall of her chest, reassuring himself she was still breathing. He continued to watch as she swung slightly, her bare feet a few inches from the ground. He didn't see visual injuries, but the video quality wasn't great and he knew there were many injuries that could be afflicted without an outward sign. Before he could say a word, his phone started vibrating again.

"You don't have to be the one to answer that," Jane said to him. "You should let a trained negotiator take over."

Still watching Elizabeth on the small screen, he nodded and handed the phone to Mike. It wasn't giving up as much as he still didn't think he could speak. The conversation happened around him for thirty minutes and he was only capable of sitting and watching his wife. Several times it seemed like she might be awake, but something was wrong. He knew her better than he knew herself, in his gut, he knew she was hurt and it was serious. He watched every twitch, her right hand would periodically clasp and release, trying to keep the blood flowing, but her left hadn't moved. He could see blood around two inch cuffs encircling her wrists, some ran down her arms, but it wasn't excessive. Agents moved around him, he started picking up some words, and tried to understand what was happening but didn't remove his eyes from the tablet.

"That's only nine. There's a man unaccounted for. According to one of the women who've been cooperating there are ten men, eleven counting Justin. We'll see if we can get a name," Eden said.

Henry looked up and then back down, movement from the left of the camera caught his eye. "He's in the room with her," he said. Lifting the tablet up, but not releasing it. Everyone turned toward a monitor that was broadcasting the same video. He hadn't realized they accessed the feed and a part of him wanted to turn off the monitor. He felt violated as the dozen people in the room had been watching his wife. They all crowded around, watching as the younger man pressed his thumb along the cellphone touch screen. "Let me go in," he said before Mike answered the call. "You can clear as much of the house you need to, but I need to go in there."

Nelson shook his head, "Not yet. We need to make sure the house is clear and everyone is accounted for. We also have to assess the weapons he may have access to. I'm not giving him another hostage, and I'm not putting you in a position to watch…" he didn't finish his sentence, but Henry knew the concern. Henry was somehow personally tied into the cult and they couldn't discount the idea that he was a focal point and Elizabeth could be a tool used against him. "We need to understand what he wants and confirm his reasons for taking the Secretary." He answered the call and accepted a slip of paper from Eden. "Justin, your people are safe. How about we get you and Elizabeth McCord out of there too?"

At the mention of her name, Henry and Jane both looked at the live feed. He matched his breathing to hers. In and out. The rhythmic motion comforted him. She moved her head and a grimace transformed her face. "She's hurt," he whispered to Jane. In and out.

"Is Caleb Fellows in the house with you?" Mike asked as he read the name Eden had given him and then listened.

Henry watched Justin look around, genuine surprise on his face. "He didn't know," he told Nelson who nodded understanding. Suddenly Justin wasn't their biggest problem.

"Ok, listen to me Justin. What weapons do you have in the house? I need to send some men in to make sure Caleb is ok and gets to safety," Nelson said, hoping it came across as a non-issue.

~~/~~

"I don't know what weapons we have. I didn't access the room, it hasn't been unlocked. I'm not like my father," Justin said. Elizabeth could sense him pacing. It had taken her several minutes to comprehend the situation, only hearing one side of the conversation and the haze of pain had made it difficult, but she understood they were in the middle of a hostage situation now. All the rules had changed. She also knew that Henry was definitely close. This knowledge made her simultaneously relieved and terrified.

"You would be a better man if you were more like your father," Caleb said as he came in. The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking echoed off the walls.

Baring down to face the pain, Elizabeth worked the blindfold, using the friction of her right arm, she moved it up high enough to see, but hoped not too high that either man would notice. As she took in the situation, no one was paying attention to her. Caleb had a handgun in his hand and a rifle slung across his chest. Neither one was pointed at anyone, yet.

"Caleb, what are you doing? I told you to get to safety with everyone else. This needs to end," he said lowering the phone.

"I agree this needs to end, but I'm sure I disagree with how this needs to end," he said and looked down at the phone in Justin's hand. "Who is on the phone?" Not waiting for an answer, he took the device and started talking. "Henry McCord?"

Hearing his name made Elizabeth's gut clench. Caleb was clearly militant and she doubted he would listen to any logic or reason.

"I want Henry McCord in here right now, we're not talking to anyone else," he said and listened. "You don't need to know who this is, you just need to know I'm taking charge of this discussion and I want Henry McCord in here. He's confused Elder Peters and we need to sort some things out."

~~/~~

A long, complicated hour later, Henry stood at the front door of the compound, waiting entry. He felt the weight of the body armor concealed under his shirt. One of many concessions he agreed to. As the door clicked and slowly opened a crack he tried to see who was on the other side. When it did not open any further, he took the hint and stepped forward.

"Close the door and lock it," a man at the end of the hallway instructed, Henry complied and waited for his next instructions. "Come."

Henry followed the moving form to the back of the house and through an unassuming white door. As he stepped over the threshold, he stopped. Seeing her hanging there was gut wrenching. The video had given him a two-dimensional look at her torment, but seeing her, being able to look her in the eye almost took him to his knees. She squeezed her eyes against the tears that instantly welled up at the sight of her husband. Stamping down every instinct to help her, Henry focused on the two other people in the room and waited for someone to take the lead.

"Professor," Justin started. "We have some questions."

"Ok, but I don't talk to people who are armed," he said looking at Caleb. When he hesitated, Henry rose his hands. "You can pat me down, I'm not armed and there are no windows in this room. There is no need for weapons while we talk."

Silence hung in the room. Henry took the moment to study Elizabeth. In and out. Her breathing was still controlled but he realized it was shallow. The steady rhythm was clearly one she chose because it caused the least amount of pain. He looked at the cuffs around her wrists, and from his vantage point, he didn't understand how they were secured. When his eyes met hers, he realized she had been watching him as he checked her out. Movement drew his attention back to the men on the other side of the room. The guns were placed on a table while Justin repositioned three chairs for the group to sit. Henry chose the chair that allowed him a direct line of sight on Elizabeth. If he picked up on any sign of distressed, he planned to intervene. Once everyone was settled, he looked at Justin expectedly.

The dark-haired man offered a sidelong glance at Caleb and then back to Henry. "Do you know who the beast is?" he asked.

"Do you?" Henry asked, looking between both men.

Caleb was the first to speak, "I know President Dalton is one of the heads."

"How do you know?" for another twenty minutes, Henry applied the Socratic method gathering information, formulating his strategy. The entire time, he was agonizingly aware that he was allowing his wife to hang in pain just ten feet away.

"No, enough," Caleb said in frustration. "No more questions. Tell me who you think the beast is."

Henry took a breath and sat back. He never thought a theological discussion would be a life or death moment of him. As they spoke though, he knew agents were getting into position to storm the room if anything went wrong or if Caleb armed himself again. Flash-bangs would incapacitate everyone in the room but if one person outside the room moved too slowly or one person inside the room moved too quickly, it could all be over for Elizabeth. In and out. "I don't think the beast is a person or seven people. Some think it was a reference to the Roman Empire, others think it's any government that is in opposition to God," Henry started. "But the beast isn't why we're here."

"It's why she's here," Caleb said, pointing at Elizabeth who was doing her best to remain silent.

The sudden attention though caused her to tense and she wasn't able to stifle the moan of pain. She watched Henry shift in his chair, prepared to come to her aid and she cursed herself. He needed to focus his attention on the conversation and she needed him to wrap it up quickly. She had been enjoying some marginal success at managing the shoulder injury by controlling her breathing and relaxing her muscles. The consequence of those actions though where an increasing pain at her wrists, which were forced to bare all her weight and a burning in her lungs. She wondered if he had to be so thorough in his impromptu Socratic seminar.

"She's here because she had the bad luck to wear the right colors, surrounded by the right number of people needed to fit your interpretation of the scripture," Henry said, ready to wrap up the conversation and get medical help to his wife. "Even if you're right, hurting her, killing her doesn't change anything. Babylon might be a city, or a denomination, or even a person, but her role is to warn the church against idolatry. If Elizabeth is Babylon, the way you find victory over her influence is to reaffirm your faith in an unseen God, turn away from any person that has been elevated to a place of worship. If she is controlling the beast, she was brought into your life to warn you against the idolatry that was growing around Reverend Morning Star," he said and let the words sink in.

Justin for his part seemed shocked at the insight, but clearly accepted the idea as a truth they needed to hear. Caleb appeared to be considering the idea but slowly shook his head. "No," he said, sitting back, getting physical distance from Henry, rejecting the idea. He was too entrenched in the ideas Douglas Peters had propagated. He knew Justin could be reformed, but Caleb was a lost cause. When Fellows stood, Henry was ready.


	5. He will wipe every tear from their eye

a/n: First, thank you all for the reviews and encouragement. I know many of you wanted me to explore the emotional fallout, it's not one of my strengths, but I will give it a go for you all. I hope this meets expectations. The next chapter should also deal with the recovery—emotional and physical. This type of content takes me a bit longer and I thank you for your patience.

Chapter 5: He will wipe every tear from their eye

Before Caleb could take one step toward the table, Henry moved. The instant he tackled the younger man, agents burst through the door. Controlled chaos ensued as the two men were secured and the weapons were cleared. An agent helped Henry stand, and as soon as he was on his feet, he was moving to Elizabeth. He wanted desperately to touch her, hold her, but he didn't know where she was hurt. "Elizabeth, it's over, you're ok," he said pulling the blindfold up and the rest of the way off her head. "We need a medic!" he shouted behind him, knowing the with the cult's history of explosives, the house had to be cleared before any paramedics would be allowed entrance.

"Henry," she sobbed. She didn't quite believe the ordeal was over, but now that it was, the pain was growing exponentially and she was starting to shake.

"Shh," he whispered. "We're going to get you help. You're going to be ok. Tell me what hurts?"

"My arm, it's my left arm. I don't know what's wrong," she said, teeth starting to chatter. With the threat gone, shock was setting in.

"Henry," Jane said as she came up behind them. "Tell me how to help."

"Let's get her down, and we need some blankets," the last request was directed to the agents behind him. His partner moved to the hook on the wall securing the end of the rope. "We're going to go slow," he told both of them, and noticed his wife's breaths were coming fast and shallow. He saw the panic growing. "Hey, hey. Look at me. We're going to go slow and we're going to stop when you need us to."

She nodded her head, trusting his words. Then she realized she didn't trust her body and shook her head. "No, I can't," she admitted.

"You can. Look at me, breath with me. In. Out," he said. As she regained some calm, he looked up and saw the padlock. "Did anyone get a key?" he looked around and took a silver key from an agent. "Okay, we're going to get you to your feet, then we'll get your right arm down. We'll take as much time as you need to lower your left," he explained and watched her. When she had regained control he nodded to Jane who unhooked her end and lowered her until her feet touched the ground.

Henry gripped her waist, made sure she was steady, and freed her right wrist. Her grunts of pain as the over taxed muscles protested a new position cut to his heart. Worse, he knew lowering the right arm was the easy part. "You're doing great," he told her. New noise erupted behind him and he saw medical personnel enter. "See that, I bet they have drugs," he told her, glad to see a smile grace her face.

The paramedics brought their stretcher around and behind Elizabeth, adjusting the height so the least amount of effort would be exerted to sit once she was free. Then they busied themselves with emergency blankets and monitors. When one stepped up to take over for Henry, he merely shot the young woman a challenging look and he returned his attention to his wife.

"Ok, Jane, I'm going to steady her arm, then you release the tension." When she nodded, he took the second cuff as gently as he could and unhooked it from the lock. The medic, undeterred from the previous interaction with the determined man, moved behind Elizabeth and placed her hands exactly where Henry had been holding her, trying her best to make sure she didn't aggravate an injury.

Elizabeth lowered her head to his shoulder. In response, he lowered one of his arms to rest his hand tenderly on the back of her head. She let a sob escape her throat; as much a response to the anticipated pain as it was to the current state of discomfort. "Henry," it was a question, a statement, a request, all in one breath.

The tears that had been welling up in his eyes, finally trailed down his face. He had never seen her so broken, so desperate. Even after Iran she had a defiance and determination to power through. In this moment, he wondered how either of them would recover. He felt her shiver, and when he placed his lips against her forehead he felt that she was both cold and sweating. Henry knew shock was their biggest problem and they needed to get her to the hospital. "Let me do the work," he instructed, hearing the pain in his own words. "Try to relax, and let me do the work." Feeling some of the tension leave her small frame he lowered her arm until her elbow as at a right angle. Her right hand flew up and gripped his shirt. The other medic jumped in to provide additional support as Henry faltered momentarily. Then, as a team, they played a game of inches, slowly repositioning her arm and moving her toward the gurney at the same time.

At last, she was sitting, her left arm cradled protectively around her abdomen. Activity buzzed around him, but the noise faded into the background as Henry knelt and focused all of his attention on his wife. He took in every rise and fall of her chest, every grimace, every bruise, every cut. He took the moment to be thankful she was alive and safe. Taking her right hand, he finally realized the cuffs around her wrists were welded on. He tried to find the logic in such a thing, but shook his head. Matt came up behind them, Henry looked up. "We need some kind of saw to get these off," he said, drawing the agent's attention to the shackles.

Confusion was quickly replaced with understanding, "We'll look for one." But before he could leave, the young paramedic shook her head.

"If there isn't a life threatening reason to remove them here, we should wait until we get the Secretary to the hospital. There will be a surgical saw we can use with greater precision and less chance of further injury," she explained as she readied a needle.

Elizabeth, who had remained silent through the exchange saw what she was doing. "I can't have any painkillers until I'm debriefed. There'll be someone at the hospital," she said calmly.

"Elizabeth, this wasn't about compromising national security," Henry tried to reason with her.

"Doesn't matter, it's protocol. I can wait a little longer. It's better now," she tried to convince him. "I would really like a shower though, if you have one of those." As they repositioned her on the gurney to transport, she settled her head against the softness. "Call the kids?" she asked closing her eyes.

Looking from his wife to the medic, Henry wanted to fight her but was in no emotional state to do so. Gratefully, the older medic who was busy attaching monitors spoke up. "No narcotics, but we can start you on some anti-inflammatories," he suggested. "Take some of the edge off, and we can get ahead of the swelling."

Relief washed through him when she opened her eyes and nodded her consent. "I'll call Stevie and have their security detail meet us at GW," he said searching for his cell phone.

"Holy Cross is closer, the FBI has already set up an advance team there," Jane said, stepping in and offering Henry her phone. His cell was still in the command center. "Come on, you can call them on the way. There won't be room for you on the Ambulance, we'll join the motorcade," she said steering him toward the exit.

~~/~~

Russel Jackson walked behind and to the left of the President. They had left the White House almost immediately after they were told which hospital was preparing for the Secretary of State's arrival. Thanks to the speed and efficiency of the presidential motorcade, they hadn't been that far behind the medical transport. Russel wasn't surprised to see Henry arguing with someone who was clearly not a medical professional when they entered the secured waiting room. The man he had come to know was fiercely protective of his family and he himself had been on the receiving end of Professor McCord's displeasure and righteous indignation.

"—delay medical attention to be debriefed for a situation that had nothing to do with national security," Henry yelled at the unphased agent who was clearly exercising patience with the angry man blocking the door.

Before the agent could respond, the President stepped in. He recognized the CIA official whose job was to complete threat assessments. "Henry, Kyle," he started and with some good humor noted only the agent snapped to attention and greeted the President of the United States. "Let's go in and get an initial threat assessment and then leave the medical team get to work," he suggested reasonably.

Russel hung back, allowing the three men to enter the private room. Conrad observed the controlled chaos of the medical staff working in a strange choregraphed dance. Each one aware of the others in the room, but focused completely on the role they were assigned to oversee. Nurses prepped instrument trays and monitors, residents called out for numbers that would help them assess the patient's vitals, three attending physicians stood back conferring with one another, taking in all the information, while a medical intern diligently recorded every order, every number in a patient record. It was almost too easy to miss the woman lying uncomfortably at the center of the chaos. Conrad noted the closed eyes, the crease in her forehead, the tight lips that were pressed together to form a thin line, and the lone tear that made its way along her temple. Before he could speak, one of the attendings noticed the three men and broke off from her small group to address POTUS.

"Mr. President, I'm Doctor Ellen Reeves," she said offering her hand. She was a middle aged African American woman who had mastered the balance between determination and empathy. She simultaneous put all three of the newcomers at ease while making it clear she was in charge of whatever happened next. "We have a lot to do to stabilize Secretary McCord but she's been firm on waiting for you. Can we make this quick?"

Conrad nodded his agreement and looked to Kyle. "This is Agent McKinney. He has a few questions to ask. We'll need the room and will be out of your way as soon as we can," he told the Doctor.

She didn't looked thrilled with the idea of leaving the patient mid-assessment but also understood the situation was one rarely encountered by civilian staff. "Medical school didn't prepare us for this. We're leaving the monitors on. If anything makes a noise it isn't currently making we need to get back in here right away," she said and motioned to the staff to exit.

Before the team had cleared the room Henry was at his wife's side. Her head instinctively moved toward him before she opened her eyes. Pain cleared when she took in his face. "You look like I feel," she told him.

"So do you," he said with a half smile. And she did. The raw emotions that had been rolling over him in waves were starting to feel like physical wounds.

Conrad took the moment to step up and brush her hair back from her eyes. "Bess, this could have waited," he told her, knowing response and echoed her words as she said them.

"It's standard protocol," they said in unison.

The president smiled despite the situation. He could have overridden the protocol and certainly the situation seemed to warrant it, but he also knew that it would likely take less time to ask the standard questions when an asset was recovered than it would to convince her to skip the initial threat assessment. "Kyle's going to ask the questions and then you're going to work on being a more accommodating patient," he told her, pleased that she smiled. He motioned to Henry to move with him across the room while McKinney readied his notepad.

Henry looked on as the routine questions started. 'Did anyone ask you to divulge sensitive information.' 'Did you, under duress or of your own free will provide classified information to anyone not authorized to have that information.' The clip tone of the words slowly faded into the background as Henry watched Elizabeth. She still had the metal cuffs around her wrists and he could tell that the swelling the medics had predicted was placing pressure around the edges. She guarded her left side and it wasn't just her arm that was giving her problems. Any movement was deliberate and only attempted when absolutely necessary. A change in the president's demeanor caught his attention as Conrad took a step forward. Henry focused, trying to figure out what he had missed.

The heart monitor was speeding up.

"—you see who took you from your house?" McKinney asked.

Her breathing sped up, and she was close to hyperventilating.

"Bess?" Conrad asked, concerned when she couldn't answer.

A beeping started from the monitors and Henry turned on his heels to get the Doctors. "This is enough, she can finish the questions after she's stable," he said and opened the door.

~~/~~

The large waiting room seemed to be shrinking every minute Henry paced. People where slowly gathering. Stevie, Ally, and Jason sat in a corner, they'd politely thank anyone who approached them to offer support. Nadine, Jay, Blake, Daisy, and Matt had set up a makeshift command center in the opposite corner, responding to media and working on official statements. Agents from various organizations were constantly coming and going. Russel and Conrad worked from cell phones, handling urgent requests when they had to and rescheduling nonessential meetings in between. In another scenario, Henry knew he should be grateful for the dedication to Elizabeth and to the job. In that moment though, he was starting to feel resentful. In his head, he knew he was projecting his own guilt over the situation onto everyone else. The reality was, he was more responsible for her current situation than the job.

A small hand rested on Henry's arm as he started another lap. He looked up and saw Nadine offering a small smile and a cup of coffee. "Why don't you take a seat. You must be exhausted," she said, knowing it was an understatement. She considered it her job to not only look after her boss, but the entire McCord family. As far as she was concerned, convincing Henry to take a moment was just as important as polishing the press release Daisy was drafting.

Before Henry could take her up on the offer, Dr. Reeves entered the room and caught his attention. Moving to meet her everyone in the room seemed to shift in her direction. Henry missed the change in the room because he was focused on the discomfort he read on her face. Fear made him stumble. If Nadine hadn't been close he may have face planted.

Regret passed over the doctor's face and she moved quickly to offer support. "I'm sorry," she started, and noticed that blood drain from Henry's face and knew she was making it worse with her poor choice of words. "She's stable, I'm just not sure what the privacy rules are in this situation," she explained helping Nadine seat the shaky man in a chair. Stevie and Ally had moved to help while Jason hovered an arm's length away. "I didn't mean to give the impression the Secretary wasn't ok," she continued looking at Nadine. "It's the President of the United States, does HIPAA apply here? And if so, how do I tell him he needs to leave while I talk to the family?"

Understanding the concentration of power that had gathered in support of the Secretary of State, Nadine decided to intervene. Let's move the family to a smaller room and we'll leave it to Henry to decide what information gets shared with the rest of us," she offered and watched the physician relax.

Stevie took her dad's hand and got him moving, while Ally and Jason followed the group to a smaller waiting room across the hall. Everyone settled into chairs and Dr. Reeves positioned herself in the middle of the group, facing Henry. "Elizabeth is stable and resting," she started with the good news still embarrassed by her rookie mistake. "Her most serious injury is her arm. She has an avulsion fracture of the humerus," she said.

"She has a broken arm?" Jason asked.

"It's a bit more complicated. A tendon put so much stress on her arm that it ripped away a portion of the bone. The bone fragment wasn't displaced and it should heal without surgery, but the pain and the physical therapy will be severe. She also has sprains in both wrists and second degree burns. The right wrist sprain is more serious. We think she was overcompensating for the avulsion fracture," she said suddenly unsure of how much the children knew about how their mother was injured. Deciding to stick to the medicine, she trusted Henry could fill in the gaps. "There are some cuts on her back that needed stiches, two cracked ribs, a mild concussion, and she was severely dehydrated. We treated for shock and have her on fluids, morphine, and some NSAIDS," she finished and let the assessment sink in. "She needs to stay here at least overnight while she's on the IV, and will need to keep her left arm immobilized for two weeks. Once it's had time to heal, we'll take some more x-rays and get her started on PT."

Henry shook his head, taking in the list of injuries. "Can we see her?"

"You can go in and see her, but she'll be out until the morning. You should all go home and get some sleep," Dr. Reeves advised.

"Kids, why don't you go get Conrad and Nadine, and then go in to see mom. I'll be right there," he told them. As each one stood they gave him a hug. Once they were clear, he looked back at the doctor.

"Doctor McCord. Henry, I'm very sorry for earlier. I've was distracted by the situation," she began.

Henry waved her off, "We're a nontraditional problem. Nadine Toliver is Elizabeth's chief of staff. Can you brief her and the President? They'll need to know not just the extent of the injuries but your best guess at how she sustained them. The FBI will also want to take her statement sometime tomorrow, I'd appreciate your professional oversight when they come."

"We do have protocols for that," she told him and stood. "We'll take good care of her."

~~/~~

Her hearing was the first sense to return as she pushed against the weight of sleep. An electric rhythm beeped an oddly comforting melody. She wanted desperately to see, but her eyes refused to open. The sterile scent of hospital sheets wafted up and she relaxed, remembering where she was. Then the buzzing pain that was being held at bay made its presence known. It seemed trapped behind some blessed barrier forced to inflict its wrath through a dull ache instead of a stabbing pain. Moving her head, she felt the rough fabric of the pillow case along the friction burn she had sustained to her temple from the brick wall. Her movement seemed to have caught someone's attention as she sensed a change in the air around her, someone moved closer and she felt a gently touch on her right hand.

"Elizabeth?" Henry's voice seemed distant, but pulled at her like a thread connecting her to reality. She squeezed his hand the best she could through the brace and bandaging used to treat the sprain and burns. "Honey, can you hear me?"

With great effort she opened her eyes and saw the concern in her husband's eyes. "Hey," she whispered. When he pressed her fingers to his lips and let several tears leave his eyes she felt an urge to comfort him, to take away his pain. "I'm okay, I'm right here," she assured him. Slowly, his head dropped and he rested it on her chest. Allowing the fear and worry finally escape, he wept. Elizabeth brought her free hand up and rested it on the back of his head. "Shh, it's over," she said softly knowing it wasn't but she was certain of one thing. "We're going to be okay."


	6. He knoweth that he hath but a short time

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've outlined the last two chapters and think I can wrap this up over spring break which starts tomorrow! Thank you all for the reviews and encouragement. It keeps the writer motivated!

Chapter 6: He knoweth that he hath but a short time

Agents moved methodically through the compound. Having found three improvised explosive devices, they couldn't rush the sweep. The main house had been cleared; however, and evidence collection was the priority. As FBI agents snapped pictures of the small room that had been used to torment the secretary of state, a lone agent moved quietly through a small hallway leading to the single bathroom. On the wall, lines of framed photos cluttered the space. Dozens of family photos were presented as a testament to the members of the First Church of the End Times. There was one photo that had to be found. The agent scanned the tidy frames and finally saw the item he sought. Two teenage boys stood squinting against a late July sun, their parents sternly looming behind them. Out of context, it would be hard to make the connection, but he couldn't risk anyone paying a little too much attention to the photo. Slipping it from the wall, the man moved to an ancient bookshelf that looked like it weighed hundreds of pounds and would take a small team to move. The photo slipped easily between the shelf and the wall. A satisfying thump ensured connections would be harder to find from a lost young boy to a certain government servant.

~~/~~

 _Water rushed into her lungs, stung her sinuses. No matter how hard she struggled, Elizabeth couldn't break the surface. Hands held her down, pushing on her shoulders. She could see light dance across the surface above her head, but it may have been a mile away for how futile it was to struggle. A hand snaked around her neck and covered her mouth. A small, familiar wire circled the wrist. The revelation was enough to make her forget her desperate need for oxygen. Suddenly cold fingers wrapped themselves around her legs, pulling her further from hope and deeper into the abyss._

Waking with a gasp, Elizabeth fought down panic. She tensed and then instantly regretted the movement as pain sung from her elbow and up to her shoulder and neck. Still learning how to manage her injury she tried to relax and refocus her attention. Her thoughts wandered to the dream. Reality was blurring with the cloud of her subconscious. She didn't want to believe one of her detail had colluded with her abductors, but when she started her job, she wouldn't have imagined that agents inside her own government would conspire to murder her predecessor. She had earned the right to be cynical and knew she had to at least tell someone of her suspicions and let an investigator determine what may have happened.

Before she could continue the mental process of decoding her subconscious, a form moved from the corner of her bed around to help her find a new position. "Easy," the familiar voice said, setting down a clipboard and repositioned the bed.

Blinking the blur of sleep out of her eyes, the form slowly came into focus. "Will?"

"Hey sis," he said easily readjusting her pillows.

"Thanks. You've been working on your bedside manner," she said closing her eyes. "I'm glad they called you."

He picked up the clip board and sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chair that was pulled up to her right side. "You mean to ask who called me?" as he flipped through hospital notes.

"I don't want to fight," she sighed. "I haven't had a lot of access to a phone since…"

"Since you were abducted by a doomsday cult resulting in a nationally televised search and safe return?"

The thing she knew about her brother was that defensiveness was his only coping mechanism when forced to confront the fear related to losing family. She also knew he was still working on settling into his new life teaching at Walter Reed. Taking the bait wasn't going to help either of them. "Thanks for coming," her words softened him. "What are reading?"

He smiled and leaned in to take her hand. "This is a greatest hits collection. Avulsion fracture of the distal humerus, three centimeter lacerations along the lumbar and thoracic regions required a total of 25 sutures, isolated carpal dislocations in both wrists—"

"—I get it," she interrupted.

He stood, setting the files aside, tears welling up in his eyes. "Bess…"

The door opened to her room interrupting further conversation. Her husband entered speaking in hushed tones to a serious looking physician she recalled was Ellen Reeves. Her arrival and initial care were memories that were hazy but she remembered the professional control she exuded by her mere presence. She took her brother's hand before he could retreat.

She gave him a look of appreciation and shifted to give the doctor her full attention. "Dr. Reeves, are you here to spring me?" she asked.

Smiling the older woman glanced at a chart she was holding, "On some conditions."

"Where every good negotiation should start," Bess said trying to remain positive. Leaving the hospital clearly meant she had to face the reality of her situation.

"You need to rest your arm and keep it iced. I'd like to see you back in two weeks for follow up to ensure the bone has begun to fuse properly. If it doesn't, you could need surgery, so it's in your best interest to follow doctor's order on this one," she said looking up.

Elizabeth looked from the doctor, to her brother and then to her husband, "Has someone suggested that I may not follow doctor's orders?" she asked with some annoyance.

Reeves smiled knowingly, "You're not the first workaholic I've treated. You have stitches in your back that we can take out during the follow up, but you'll need to try to keep those dry," she continued and flipped a few pages. "I understand you're well versed in that exercise," she added alluding to her back injury she sustained in Iran. Will's hand reflexively tightened. "There's not much we can do about the cracked ribs. Ice and anti-inflammatories will manage the pain. Same goes with your wrist sprains. We're sending you home with a small pharmacy of pain killers and burn ointment. Use the ointment every time you change your bandages," she finished.

Taking a small breath, Bess nodded. "Is that all?"

Henry shot her a disapproving look. He knew he would have his work cut out for him the minute they left the hospital. In some ways the extent of her physical injuries would make it easier for him to reason with her than her recovery after Iran. There was still the serious nature of her mental wellbeing, but she wasn't going to just power through an avulsion fracture. Even so, he had a precarious line to walk keeping her comfortable and pushing her to deal with what happened to her.

Ever the diplomat, Elizabeth picked up on her husband's silent warning, "Thank you Dr. Reeves. I'm sure Professor McCord will keep us on track."

"And he'll have back up," Will interjected.

"Your reputation proceeds you Dr. Adams. I'll have a nurse bring you your discharge paperwork and while you wait, Professor McCord is welcome to head down to the pharmacy to get your homework," she told them. "I'm glad you're safe."

Suddenly aware that her disappearance was certainly something that had gotten the attention of the entire country she nodded. "We'll all very grateful for your team's excellent care. We know situations like this don't normally descend on Holy Cross," she offered, slipping into her role as spokesperson for the administration.

As Henry moved toward the door with Dr. Reeves, she started to feel panic build. When she saw the familiar face of her head agent, Matt step in, she relaxed. Until she thought about the kids. "Where are the kids?" she asked.

Matt spoke up, "All three are already at the house with Frank."

Satisfied for the moment that her two best and trusted agents were on the job she switched gears. "Could you have agent McKinney meet us at the house? He'll have follow up questions," she asked Matt.

Henry's eyes narrowed, something about the way she said it made him think there was more on her mind but he swallowed his objection. The fact she asked for him to come to her was progress. He wasn't going to keep her away from work while she recuperated, but he was going to do his best to save her from herself. Knowing Matt wasn't going to let anything happen to her, Henry excused himself.

Before Elizabeth could say anything to Matt, a nurse came in as promised with paperwork to complete and a wheelchair. Scowling at both she resigned herself to protocol and let he brother help her sort through the release forms.

After a flurry of activity, she was sitting compliant in the wheelchair heading for the safety of her motorcade. She stared skeptically at the step that was required to get in to the back seat of her SUV and then looked to Henry. He moved to stand in front of her and braced a hand under her good elbow. Resisting the urge to simply lift his wife up and settle her in, he did his best to provide support while guarding her arm. Once in, he closed the door and rounded to the other side getting himself settled in next to her. Before they were moving, Elizabeth was leaning heavily on him. He kissed her temple, gently draping his arm around her. She slowly repositioned herself so she was laying on her good side, her head in his lap. Her hand grabbed a handful of his shirt and she closed her eyes.

~~/~~

Moving through the front door, she tried to veer toward the office off the foyer, but Henry was moving her toward the stairs. "Henry, I just spent the last twenty-four hours laying down. And I need to talk to Agent McKinney as soon as he gets here," she explained motioning toward the desk chair. "And I would really like to spend some time with the kids," she said, trying to pull at his heart strings.

Before more words could be exchanged, a thunder of footsteps alerted the couple to the moving herd that were their children. The three siblings moved into the small office welcoming their mother home and bombarding her with questions. The situation was overwhelming, but had been desperately missed. Basking in the moment, Bess tried to keep up with the chatter until Henry stepped in. "Ok, ok, let's give your mom a minute. Jason, finish your paper. Stevie, take out the chicken and I'll start dinner. Allison, why don't you figure out what movie we can all watch tonight?" he instructed as he moved his wife toward the desk. Helping her ease into the chair he took her head in his hands. "I'll let you talk to Kyle, and then will you at least move to the couch? We can plan nice, uneventful, stationary movie night?"

"Deal." With the concession made and the kids returning to some semblance of routine, the doorbell rang. Henry greeted McKinney and brought him to Elizabeth. Knowing there was more going on than some follow up questions, he closed the pocket doors as he left.

The young man settled into a chair across from her. "Madam Secretary, I was surprised to get this request. Did you think of something we missed?"

She nodded and tried to frame her thoughts. "I'm not sure if this is a legitimate concern or a detail my subconscious has made up."

He took out a notebook and looked on seriously. "It's clearly important enough that it's occupying your thoughts. You're a trained operative, you have to follow your instinct, no matter how outlandish they may seem." His words of encouragement set her at ease.

"When I was grabbed, out back, I think the person was from my detail," she said. When surprise did not follow her claim she blinked. "You already suspect this."

"It's the most logical reason for why they were able to move you so easily from the house, especially with the increased security you had that night. Why do you think it was a DS agent?"

Her hand moved to her neck and then to her mouth, remember the evening and feeling the phantom hand even now. "When he brought his hand up to cover my mouth, I think he was wearing a wrist mic."

"Any suspicions on who it may have been?" he asked looking up.

"No. I was wearing heels and he was almost exactly a head taller than me, so he's about six feet tall."

"Why do you think it was a he? Because of his height?"

She squinted her eyes as she forced herself to relive the moment. "The person was too muscular to be a female. His arms were too big and his chest was too broad. And I smelled aftershave." Then she remembered a critical detail. "I bit him."

"Where?"

"His left hand. I tasted blood, he has to have a mark."

"Ok. That's good." He told her sensing the stress she was experiencing remembering the abduction. "Are there agents you implicitly trust?"

"Matt and Frank," she answered without giving it a second thought.

"Ok, I'll recommend they rotate their shifts so one of them are always with you. It wouldn't be a terrible idea if they stay inside the house until we can figure out who on your detail is compromised."

The suggestion seemed unnecessarily intrusive. She imagined Matt sitting uncomfortably in the living room while they all watched the X-men. "I appreciate the suggestion. I'm not sure I want to disrupt my family more than they already have been."

"I understand. Let me supplement your detail with agents I know and trust. We'll cover both entrances and make sure all agents are paired up. We'll interview everyone who has been assigned to your detail in the last month. If he was wired into the comm systems it's more likely he was actually on duty. We'll start there. In the meantime, call me if you think of anything else." Kyle stood, and opened the door Henry had exited from. Catching his attention, he moved to gather his notes. "Dr. McCord, I'm going to add some security to your detail until we're sure all the members of the church are accounted for," he explained, giving Elizabeth a knowing look. Their discussion would remain between the two of them until she let him know she had shared her concerns with the family. "Are there any agents you would specifically request? That you trust?"

Henry looked from his wife to the agent. His concerns grew, but he stamped them down. "Besides her regular detail? Eden. I worked with her when we were trying to find Elizabeth. I trust her."

"Great, I'll add her to the rotation. Have a good night," he told them and let himself out.

"Do you want to tell me?" Henry asked not surprised she was working out something without reading him in, but anxious to know what was going on in her head.

"I will, let's have a family night and I'll tell you everything," she promised.

~~/~~

Henry watched Elizabeth struggle to stay awake and present as the movie wrapped up. She was due for her pain meds and he was sure she needed fresh ice packs. Moving to prepare for the task of getting her settled in bed his absence wasn't noticed, and allowed him to watch his family from the kitchen. Ally was like Teflon, hesitant to leave her mom's side. Stevie would respond to every grimace or hint of discomfort. Jason tried to act like it was a normal movie night, but would clam up anytime something would happen that broke the illusion. Sorting out the pills and pulling out ice packs he shook his head. He knew they weren't destined to be a normal family, but their current circumstances seemed above and beyond. And on top of everything, it was his job, not hers that was directly responsible for the situation. The guilt was heavy. Moving to his wife with the pills he held them out. She looked up at him and down at the circles and squares. She fumbled with them with her right hand. The sprain and burns made fine motor control difficult, but Henry knew she wasn't interested in him helping her. Once they were in her system, he corralled the kids, directed them all to bed. Stevie grabbed the ice packs, planning to drop them in their bedroom on her way to her room.

"Ready?" he asked standing in front of her.

Secretly, she was dreading the arduous task of walking up the stairs and trying to find a comfortable position in bed. She looked up at him with apprehension. He would let her do it under her own power if that's what she wanted. But, she was too exhausted to stand. "No. I can't."

His brow furrowed with love and concern. "Can I carry you?" He suspected the answer was going to be no, but was relieved when she relented. Lifting her with ease, he did his best not to jostle her immobilized arm. They moved in silence up the stairs. His eyes stung when he saw that Stevie had already turned down the bed for them, moving the pillows so he was able to get her settled with little effort. Helping her find the best position, he applied the new ice packs and sat next to her on the edge of the bed on her side. He rubbed her leg and watched her relax. The pain meds were kicking in. When he was certain she was sleeping, he stood to get himself ready for bed but found himself suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. Not wanting to wake her, he moved to bathroom, but stopped short when he saw his oldest standing in the doorway. Walking to her, he entered the hallway and shut the door. Before he could speak, she pulled him into a hug. The moment was too much and he sunk to the ground. Stevie followed him down, maintaining her embrace and let him release the pain that had been building for days but had only been released in small episodes.

~~/~~

Early the next morning Henry was lying on his side, just watching his wife sleep. She hadn't moved since he had put her to bed almost 6 hours before. The deep sleep was likely a combination of exhaustion and drugs. She was going to be sore when she woke up and he regretfully needed to make that happen soon to keep her pain meds on schedule. Brushing a stray hair away from her face, he thanked the universe that she had been returned to him. The guilt that spiked up in his chest left him breathless. Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last time, he wondered if she would have been targeted without his intervention in Justin Peter's life. Looking at the clock, he did some mental calculations. If he woke her it was still early enough that she might go back to sleep. The decision was taken from his hands when she stirred. He was familiar with the rumblings of a nightmare. They came in waves after Iran. Wanting to ease her out of the dream, he moved closer, grabbed her right hand and whispered in her ear. "I got you. You're safe."

Her fingers curled around his hand. The grip wasn't strong, but still it conveyed her need for his safety. "No," she said in hushed tones.

"Babe, wake up now, I've got you."

Her eyes opened, but they weren't clear. He could tell there was still a haze keeping her locked in her own mental terror. Henry shifted so his face would fill her field of vision. "Elizabeth, you with me?"

She blinked and finally focused on him. "Yeah."

They sat in silence, Henry running his thumb over the hand that still clung to his. He brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. Releasing his hand, she brought her right arm up and wrapped it around him. "You ready for a breakfast chaser of anti-inflammatories?" he finally asked.

She laughed despite herself. "That sounds fantastic."

Henry watched her take the pills he offered. Once she had swallowed the water, he set the glass down he had at the ready. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. "Not really. Not yet."

Trying not to push, he stamped down his frustration. "Do you want to talk about your meeting with Agent McKinney?"

That got her attention. "Can you help me move to the chair?" she asked, looking at the plush recliner in next to the window.

Cutting to the chase, he lifted her and shifted her over to the chair. It was likely not the method she had in mind, but helping her stand, take the three steps to the chair and then trying to ease down into a sitting position seemed like unnecessary effort. He was glad she didn't protest.

"I think one of my detail took me that morning," she suddenly divulged.

He wasn't expected that piece of information. Sudden fear for his family spiked.

"I don't know who…I was taking the trash out when he came up from behind me. His hand, it covered my mouth and I'm pretty sure he was wired and armed." She said.

"He hit you?" he asked remembering the blood on the wall.

Her hand flew up to the abrasion on her temple. "No, I bit him and he slammed by against the wall. I don't remember anything else. I woke up in that room you found me in. I don't know how long. I think he drugged me."

Hearing the details was simultaneously a relief and distressing. The not knowing was often worse than the knowing. "What did Kyle say?"

"He's adjusting the detail protocol, and will be talking to everyone who's been assigned to me, starting those that were on that night. Frank and Matt are going to adjust their shifts so one of them will always be with us."

He was already working on what actions Jose and Jane could take to identify the agent. Before he could ask more questions, he watched her eyes drift shut again. Henry grabbed a quilt from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. Waiting until he was certain she was asleep, he took his cell and moved to the bathroom to call Jane.


End file.
